Keep Calm and Carry On Wayward Sons
by mabel-but-slytherin
Summary: Summer ended months ago with Dipper and Mabel heading back to Piedmont. But although some can clearly divide their lives into periods of supernatural adventure and times of normalcy, others aren't so lucky. Those left behind have to find a way to stay sane and hey, sometimes staring at a blank wall and rethinking everything isn't going to do the trick. S3 Supernatural no NWHS.
1. Chapter 1

**Starting this with the obligatory plea to forgive me for the overused title. Using it only because my working title was way worse and it fits pretty well for all of the characters, not just the Winchesters.**

 **Technically I had the day off so this counts as my weekend fic goal. Despite it not being a chapter update on an already running fic I was hoping for, I'm really happy to finally share this story since it has the record of being the oldest unfinished fic in my writing folder! The first half of this was written in December 2014 with more added on over the years until I finished it today, and though it was originally a oneshot I have two ending scenes I added on and will post separately next week. Those just serve to build on to the many _many_ headcanons I've had in this crossover over the years and should be worth the wait, but I want the focus on this fic to be on this main part first rather than just having people push on to the next chapter expecting more of the same. I'm probably a bit biased based on how long I've had this mulling around but in my mind this is probably the best collision in tones I have between the shows of Supernatural and Gravity Falls, which I've claimed before in Superphantom for Suit Yourself and stand by, so hopefully that pride isn't misplaced here.**

 **Canon note: this story was started before Not What He Seems aired (wow I'm starting to feel like a fandom old-timer when I say that) and therefore plays with canon accordingly. Everything happened as normal up through the end of Northwest Mansion Mystery, but Stan (reasonably) took more than a couple weeks to fix the portal with the additional blueprints and is still working on it. Takes place after the end of GF (without the events of NWHS, Dipper and Mabel VS the Future, or Weirdmageddon due to obvious lack of Ford) and mid-season 3 of Supernatural (soon after Mystery Spot).**

 **Enjoy!**

* * *

Wendy Corduroy always tried to pretend that she was chill with whatever happened in her life. Being the only daughter of town renowned 'Manly Dan' gave people the preconceived ideas that she would be either the poor sane one who had to put up with her father's testosterone or just as bad as he is, and despite Wendy's annoyance at the attitudes, she rather be perceived as the former rather than the latter.

That didn't mean that watching two of her best friends move away at the end of the summer didn't bug her.

* * *

On a stretch of deserted highway in a place no one really cared about (except for the one yellow demon who found the place geographically perfect, but he wasn't about to let anyone, let alone these two, know about that just yet), nobody noticed the black '65 Chevrolet Impala speeding down the highway. Well, even if the Gravity Falls police were on the scene, Sheriff Blubs and Deputy Durland were more likely to drag race the offending vehicle than pull it over.

Not that Dean Winchester knew or cared about what the local law enforcement wanted. Still, driving along the highway with fingers tapping out the beat to another Metallica song on the steering wheel, it would be a change of pace.

Sam shifted in the passenger seat for the umpteenth time, debating whether it was worth it to turn the music off and face a fight, or just his ear bleed just to have something they could focus on to pass the time. The brothers, although no one would deny their care for one another, had never been the type to hold sustained conversations during road trips. John Winchester's training on foregoing unnecessary distractions had made sure of that.

Dean sighed as Sam squirmed yet again, turning the volume knob down and muttering some excuse that clearly did not translate to 'if it makes you uncomfortable just ask, bitch.'

"Don't get why Bobby has to send us this far out of the way just for one stupid spell," he grumbled, louder. "Calls us while we're all the way down in Florida saying hurry your asses over here, just make a quick pit stop on the way in friggin Oregon."

Sam just rolled his eyes. "It's only an extra day, Dean, and he said he was busy with a hunt and was just heading back himself from the other direction."

"How is Florida not the other direction?!"

Dean could _hear_ the bitchface in Sam's groan. "It's _his_ house, Dean. And it's _Bobby_. A couple extra hours in the car isn't going the end of the world if it's helping out a friend."

Dean did have to silently agree with that, even if he could argue a few reasons to the contrary. He wasn't going to pick fights with Sam about Bobby. The old man would never let him hear the end of it anyway. "So. Who's the friend of Bobby's that we're picking this up from?"

"Don't know. All he gave us was an address. And a warning not to call him up thinking he's some old idjit who couldn't remember his own contact's damn address just because the place isn't what we were expecting."

Dean slowly blew out a deep breath before saying considerably, "this should be an adventure."

Sam glanced at the map he had on his lap again before looking over at Dean. "Yeah. I am a bit nervous about what kind of place would make Bobby feel inclined to warn that it's not what we're expecting. It's making me a bit worried that whatever's here won't be good, especially if it's not even someone Bobby tried to contact about-"

"-Don't bring it up again Sammy." Dean scolded, eyes not even moving from where he was now determinedly focusing on the road. "I finally agreed to let you guys work on that, but it doesn't mean you can just keep bringing it up or go around asking everyone you know to help you. I'm not gonna take another solution you find at getting out of that deal if it means you dropping down dead again."

Dean didn't even need to move his eyes to know that Sam had turned to look out the passenger window, trying subconsciously to avoid his brother as much as possible in the front seat of the car. It took a few seconds, way more than enough time for Dean to read that his brother was deciding between starting another fight and placating him with another lie before Sam ground out, "Fine. I won't bring it up here and I won't ask whoever it is Bobby wants us to visit about it. They probably don't know much anyway, and that's why Bobby never told us about them before."

"That or they're something really weird. But given that we've spent the last few months sweet-talking a bloody demon, something which I am still _not okay with_ by the way, it can't be any worse than Ruby."

Sam's bitchface glaring directly at him was somehow more comforting than the nostalgia of the now off Metallica record. It was a sensation that Dean had noticed ever since Sam came back, and he wouldn't trade the feeling for the world.

* * *

Sam and Dean looked at the building in front of them, shared a glance, then looked right back at the building in front of them again.

"I think I'm going to call Bobby. There's no way this could be the right place."

Sam let out a breathless chuckle as he reached out to block Dean from grabbing one of his cell phones out of the glove box. "That is what he said our reactions would be."

Dean just sent him a confused look, wondering whether Sam had somehow managed to outgrown the Impala and bump his head on the car door (impossible, it was the manliest car around, but then again Sam was a certifiable Sasquatch). "You don't honestly think that this might be Bobby's contact's place, do you?" He gestured towards the… building in front of them with a waving hand. Dean tried to think of something else to describe it as, but came up short. It was just… not anywhere that Bobby Singer, nor anyone respectable and in their right mind, would willingly walk into.

"It's certainly conspicuous enough to avoid unwanted attention." The younger man shrugged, then slouched back down as he nearly hit his head on the roof of the car. "And maybe Bobby just was in the area one time and got really desperate…?"

Sam's voice was already lilting with the doubt and awkwardness that came with just saying the thought aloud. "Come on, no one gets _that_ desperate! I mean it's… it's… it's a freaking tourist trap!"

And indeed it was. As soon as the brothers saw the signs for the supposed "Mystery Shack" they knew that this place was a dump, and not the kind that Bobby ran as his cover. Just reading the phrase made Sam shiver and glance over at Dean to reassure himself that his brother was still alive and he wasn't reliving that nightmare he just got out of just a few short weeks ago again. Or even worse, that this wasn't just another bad joke by the Trickster, who was surely all too eager to throw Sam off his trail for a few weeks after six months of hunting.

Dean, on the other hand, seemed to be freaking out more over the reputation of the place. The idea of walking into such an obvious and run-down tourist attraction, not only acting as if it was legit, but straight up asking to owner to buy supplies that he would later trust with his life on a hunt, was simply out of the question for the older hunter. It was one thing to masquerade as a federal agent while chasing down a monster: they were saving people and no one would ever link them to the incredible hunk he was. But going in as himself, in his leather jacket with the Impala's keys sticking out of his jacket pocket and acting like the loon all the authorities thought he was is a whole other story.

In the end, however, neither Winchester could build up the courage to call Bobby in order to ask for verification after his previous warning, and so they quickly agreed that if anything went wrong they could come back empty handed, blame it on his cryptic wording, and take whatever punishment came their way when they got there. Bobby's scolding could be terrifying to the two boys, but they survived an in-person encounter with Ellen Harvelle after Jo ran away hunting for the first time, so they could survive anything.

Also, it was certainly safer to face him in person. After years of working as the main fake phone verifier for the entire hunter community, Bobby Singer had a phone scolding voice that made even trained FBI interrogators shudder.

Which is how Sam and Dean Winchester wound up strolling into the gift shop of an Oregonian paranormal attraction, the former with his shoulders slouched and his hands buried deep in his pockets as his only sign of discomfort while the latter kept his head turned away from any doors, cameras, or people who may be watching him as if he was a criminal trying to avoid leaving any evidence.

Of course, absolutely no one turned or even looked at them as they came through, despite the little bell that rang as they opened the screen door.

There were a handful of customers milling about the shop, not many but more than the emptiness that Dean had been expecting given how trashy the place looked on the outside and that it was still technically off season, the spring months having just thawed away the winter snow this far north. It was also late afternoon after the near cross-country drive. The man had to wonder if there had been more people here earlier in the day and if so, why so many people would be stupid enough to come here.

There seemed to be two employees on shift, both perfectly content with their independent jobs and not associating at all with the customers. In one man's case (he had a look about him that was hard to place, both young in appearance, but balding and with a face that seemed dull but wise beyond his years) it was because he appeared to be focusing far too hard on sweeping the floor under a shelf of bobble-heads (hideous ones of some old man in a suit and fez Dean had never seen before) without knocking the merchandise over. The other employee, a young redhead leaning back on her chair at the cashier's desk was barely visible behind the magazine she was reading and the sneakers she had resting on the counter.

Lightly tapping Sam, who was a few steps ahead of him taking in all of the goods in the shop to see if there was anything that even hinted at what they were looking for, on the shoulder Dean tilted his head towards the young girl. As soon as he got a nod, both brothers approached the counter together.

She didn't even look up as the two men approached. The Winchesters were trained well enough to notice the slight hitch in her shoulders and the way she turned the next page much harder than the ones before as signs that the cashier had indeed noticed them, and both quickly began to grow annoyed when she didn't even so much as recite some overly peppy spiel to acknowledge their presence. A slight cough from Sam still didn't prompt the girl to put her feet or magazine down, though a 'totally done with it' voice piped up from behind the pages, "You know I can't check your stuff out until you put it on the counter, dude."

"We're not here with any merchandise, hun." Dean said, not even framing the term with any endearment as the woman was clearly underage (at least Dean thought given her job, the time, and the way too empty to belong to a good student backpack laying on the floor behind the counter despite the lack of even community colleges nearby, indicating she was still in high school) and she came with an attitude that left Dean caring about what she thought of him.

The statement at least got the girl to roll her eyes up (and up) to meet those of the men in front of her. Looking down the comfortable gap between her slouched position and the magazine (Avoiding Eye Contact Monthly, ironically enough), the Winchesters could read from a nametag pinned to her flannel definitely-not-the-uniform-her-coworker-was-wearing shirt that her name was Wendy. Looking directly at the badge to make it obvious he'd read it (two could play at the passive-aggressive attitude game) Dean continued. "Look kid, we need to talk to your boss about an order."

Wendy just rolled her eyes at Dean, not even making an effort to move. "I'm sure whatever help you need with merchandise, I can take care of it. But you might want to go get it yourself because I'm, oof-" here she mimed reaching up at the shelf of decorative skulls and gems above her, all of which were clearly plastic and colored glass, "too short to reach the shelves."

She stretched her long legs out further, nearly kicking Dean as they began to dangle over the customer end of the counter.

Dean, although definitely not in any way a religious man, couldn't help but send a frustrated glance heavenward as he tried to hold in his tiredness and annoyance at the high school worker. She was somehow even worse than Ruby, who had gone to Hell in order to get that attitude.

Luckily Sam sensed the growing tension and intervened just at the right time with calming, but still mildly annoyed, words. "Wendy, please? We really do need to talk to your boss about this. It's important."

At hearing someone bother to use her name the girl had the tact to finally set her magazine down and look up at Sam (or maybe it was just because she finally realized that she wouldn't be able to get rid of the two by just pretending they didn't exist and waiting for them to go away). But by the time he finished his statement she audibly restrained a bark of laughter, throwing her arms around and looking at him as she said "Oh, yeah, I'm so sure you have something really important to purchase _here_ of all places. Look, if it's about some rip off you got from Stan it says at least five times on the walls 'No Refunds', and trust me, calling the police is not going to get you your money back."

The other employee suddenly looked up from where he was sweeping very close to the cash register, the brothers having entirely forgotten about the man until he piped up. "Hey, Wendy, do you think that they're looking for-?"

"I can handle it myself, Soos. Besides, these two knuckleheads are obviously just put out and looking for trouble. I know a jerk when I see one." Her magazine was already back up in front of her face and closing her off from the two men she had just insulted before they could respond to her, and if Sam was any shorter he would have missed how skillfully she used the paper to cover up the ugliest of her glare.

"Uh, okay dood. If you're sure…" The man, Soos apparently, backed away with the broom. As in he literally walked backwards while sweeping the tiny bits of dust he may have stirred up in front of him.

By this point Dean was growing visibly angry. This annoying teen could damn his lack of patience if she'd like, he literally didn't have much time left for this and was already damned to hell anyway.

The older hunter slammed his arms on the counter, hard enough to jolt the furniture with Wendy's legs on top and leaned in close enough to keep the girl from pulling her limbs back. A couple customers turned to look their way and he could see the employee Soos moving over to distract their attention again.

"Let me try this again, _kid_ ," Dean growled with acid seeping over the words to show just how he'd keep treating her if she continued to act immaturely. "You see, I really don't want to be here either, and I'm certainly not going to be buying anything. I'm just here to pick up an order for a friend. So go find your manager and tell him there's a delivery for Bobby."

A series of reactions took place on Wendy's face. First her eyes went wide with recognition, then the color drained from her face as she realized that these weren't your average troublemakers who currently had her partially pinned down on the counter. Finally the mild slack-jawed expression curled its way into a sarcastic scowl with force only a teenager could pull off.

" _You're_ friends of Mr. Singer's?" Her arms crossed and she leaned back in her stool, going so far as to kick Dean's arm slightly just to cross her legs with additional sass.

Somehow Soos was edging back behind the counter without either of the brothers noticing. Turning around Sam noticed that the shop was cleared but still open and decided he needed to re-evaluate the ageless man rather than just dismiss him based on his pudgy appearance.

"Wendy," the man attempted to whisper, but he was standing a few feet away and it was obvious to everyone but him that everyone could hear him. "I told you I think they might be involved in the… _other_ business." The man's eyes roamed over Dean practically bear-hugging Wendy's legs and he looked terrified, as if the two men were mobsters trying to rob the place.

Said teenager waved her hand dismissively at her co-worker's worries. "Yeah yeah Soos, you were right. Don't worry dude, I got this." She turned back to the Winchesters with a raised eyebrow, everything screaming casual confidence bordering on arrogance. Dean tensed in either anticipation or frustration and she tapped his arm with her toes, asking him to lighten up.

Realizing that those two were hardly going to diffuse the situation, Sam turned to see if Soos would bring any better luck. "Do you mind running back and grabbing the owner? We really don't want any trouble, just to pick up our package and go."

If anything that just made the man more nervous. "I-I'm not sure I should be getting Mr. Pines involved in this."

Wendy pipped back in. "Don't bother with it Soos. These idiots clearly think that Stan's running the operation. They're not trying to rope him into this." That seemed to calm the man down, but only made Dean raise an eyebrow back at her.

"You're saying your boss isn't running a supernatural weapons shop out back?" He shot a glance to Sam, torn between relief that their first guess might be right and discomfort at how they'd get out of nearly attacking a teenage employee if that was the case.

The girl snorted. "Please. Do you really think Mr. Pines would put any of this up, or even let us get away with this if he knew? The man doesn't even use whole glass for his moonstones, just broken soda bottles." She looked up at the man pinning her legs down like he was the idiot. "He's a good guy, but would you trust the man behind this," she gestured at the dingy tourist trap around her, "to source pure silver crucifixes or real Himalayan wolfsbane?"

Both men suddenly froze.

"Are you telling me," Sam finally stepped over towards the girl, his voice sounding incredulous, "that _you're_ the one running this business?"

"Just the supernatural part." Wendy answered. "Or, I mean, the real supernatural part." She amended after taking a look around the gift shop. "Soos helps as my lookout."

"Sup doods!" The man waved.

The teenage supply boss glanced pointedly at her feet and wiggled her boots a little, getting Dean to finally stand up and let her put her legs down. The brothers shared a look that spoke that neither of them was fully comprehending this.

Sam made a sideways dart with his eyes and Dean swallowed as he realized it was his turn to say something. He struggled to find a way to voice his confusion intelligibly.

"So you run a back door hunter supply shop-?" Both employees nodded. "Out of a tourist trap-?" Another nod. "Without the owner's permission." He paused at their third nod, still not feeling any better.

Dean Winchester has seen a lot of weird things. Hell, just last week he woke up to Sam thanking God and all of his angels that Tuesday was followed by Wednesday. But for some reason just looking over the very young redhead and her more-Ghostfacers-than-Ghostbusters friend and hearing they were one of Bobby's more secretive contacts made him want to throw his hands in the air and tell the nearest demon they could take him now.

"Why? Why this? Why here? Why you? Just… what do you think you're doing?"

The teen sat up fully in her stool and just gave him an amused look. "Well, Soos and I ran into a whole ton of supernatural stuff with Mr. Pines' nephew's kids last summer and while we took care of it and it was super cool, it's not like we're just gonna pack up and drive around chasing it."

The amused look grew into a knowing smirk.

"But after a good couple of sessions of staring at a blank wall rethinking everything I figured, 'hey we can't just run around like idiots ignoring it. We have to do something!' And since neither of us felt like risking our lives hunting we might as well get in the business of helping and supplying people who do."

She took an appreciative glance around the cheesy room. "As for the Shack, well, both Soos and I work here, and I'm fifteen so it's not like I can just drop out to start a normal front business." Dean stared open mouthed at her for a second before turning to Sam and mouthing 'fifteen?' to his see his brother looking at her with mirrored amazement.

Wendy kept going, knowing better than to be interrupted by their little eye conversations. "And I'm certainly not letting creeps like you in my house." She shot Dean a dirty glare in retaliation for grabbing her as she popped onto her feet. Thinking over his behavior Dean just shrugged the blow off. He deserved that.

Wendy nodded towards Soos, who flipped the sign on the door to closed and started sweeping his way towards the back room. "I met Mr. Singer last fall and over a couple months he set me up with some contacts and catalogs. Said it was easier on him both in supply and hiding from the feds to have some extra distributors.

"We put a few actually effective repellents on the shelf and take custom orders out the back while Mr. Pines is none the wiser, and in thanks for his unknowing assistance I get to be the only cashier to ever reverse skim the till. We each keep a chunk of the profits, hunters like you get gear, maybe the occasional tourist accidentally buys some effective warding, and I get to see the looks on your faces when the pride balloon pops at seriously buying ghost stuff at the _haunted-_ " she fiddled goofily with her fingers, and the Winchesters were reminded of her age, "house of befuddlements Mystery Shack."

Sam and Dean just stood in shock.

"So," The teenage girl started, still looking like she owned the place, just with a bit of more justification now. With some grudging respect Dean had to admit it gave her a Harvelle quality. "Give me one good reason I shouldn't just refuse to serve you based on your behavior and leave it to you to sulk back to Mr. Singer saying his contact doesn't believe a couple idjits like you were trusted with his supply."

The continually growing smirk and dropping of Bobby's favorite word gave away to both Winchesters just how much they'd been played. This girl should definitely never meet Ellen or, dear god, Jo.

Sam was the one who groaned and admitted it. "You knew who we were this whole time, didn't you?"

Wendy just shrugged. "Didn't actually have a description, but I know you're not Mr. Singer and I'm certainly not dumb enough to trust hunters to let strangers pick up their orders without naming couriers. He just said I'd recognize the skeptical idiot brothers who probably wouldn't give me their real names anyway when I saw them and that I could call if I needed to confirm."

Somehow out of everything wrong with this whole scene, there was just one detail Dean couldn't let slide. "Oh come on! How come we don't get a skeptical phone call to Bobby and yet he willing gives them out to her?"

Sam shrugged and Wendy laughed. "To be fair, a lot of the customers here come dragging skeptical idiots. But he was right, if I was any good at my job I wouldn't need it."

Just then a honking sound outside interrupted them, and the three people still in the gift shop all turned to see an old beat up red van standing outside the entrance. The windows rolled down and a half dozen teenagers peered out at them.

"Yo! Wendy!" They all cried out, and if they were any older Dean would've assumed they were stoned based on the tone of voice alone.

A huge smile broke across said teenager's face and Dean relaxed to discover these were her friends and not some harassers. "Hey! 'Sup dudes! I'll be out in just a minute!"

A couple of them were already getting out of the van before she called back and were too far to the door to bother turning back, so Dean got a full view of two of Wendy's pals as they sauntered into the place, ignoring the sign on the door that it was no longer open.

They were both clearly small town kids, the wear in their respective style and distinct difference from Wendy showing that both shopping malls and teens their age were in limited supply. The taller one, an emo boy who was clearly trying to dress Goth and somewhat resembled a vulture had his arm wrapped possessively around a girl who must be his girlfriend. The black girl didn't even look up at the steps or her friend, her thumbs only ceasing their constant patter on her razor phone to push a dyed streak of hair out of her face.

"Hey Wendy, what's with the wait? Didn't your shift end like ten minutes ago?" Goth vulture asked, not even bothering to take in the Winchesters she had clearly been talking to.

Wendy didn't seem as bothered by his attitude as she had been with Dean's. "No worries Robbie, just had a couple of last minute customers who needed to get some stuff we have in back. I'm just taking care of them and then I'll be right out."

Robbie, as goth vulture seemed to be called, gave a dramatic roll of his eyeliner painted eyes and groaned. "Come on. We're gonna miss the extra previews for My Mummy's a Werewolf 3, and Lee was going to bet Thompson to drink popcorn butter again. Just tell the dumb tourists to get their butts out of here before we're late."

Wendy plastered on what Dean was starting to recognize as her mischievous 'I'm going to just watch you be an idiot' smirk and gestured from Robbie to him and Sam in a way that said go ahead. Robbie took in the classic sassy teenager breath and rolled not only his eyes but literally his entire body to face both of them, and then went even whiter than his foundation at sight of the two buff men before him.

"Pft. Pft, fine. I see how it is. We'll just be out waiting in the car while you take care of those stupi-" Sam raised an eyebrow at the language in Robbie's rambling, clearly amused to be on Wendy's side of the joke for once today and the teen cut himself off. " -Those customers. It's not like we haven't already seen Thompson drink popcorn butter twice already. Loser probably likes it."

With that the teen sulked his way back out the door and into the van, the girlfriend hanging on his arm looking entirely oblivious to the situation other than the mouthed 'wow' and a flash of her camera phone once they finally noticed took in the Winchesters' appearance. Dean groaned at the thought of either the feds finding their location through social media or Ellen or Gordon Walker or someone getting their hands on it for blackmail.

The hunter wasn't sure which one would be worse. The look of delight on Wendy's face made him curse the teenager's sick amusement at damaging hunters' pride.

However, the image of Bobby or Gordon Walker waiting next to that counter of snow globes and bobble-heads while waiting on a shipment was enough to make him admit the running joke was pretty funny.

A minute later Soos made his way out of the door to the back area with a cardboard box in his arms that Sam quickly came to relieve him of.

Once she checked over that everything was taken care of (the Winchesters were relieved to hear that Bobby had already paid, though they weren't so happy when the cashier teased that Mr. Singer couldn't trust them to know the proper value for payment), Wendy called out the men getting ready to walk the Winchesters to their car.

"Hey, Soos, will you be okay to close up shop on your own?"

Having clearly recognized the van still outside the other employee nodded. "You got it dood!"

Wendy vaulted over the counter after locking the register. "Sweet! You're the best, Soos."

Then there was simply a red and green blur and a "later losers!" as in a blink the seasoned hunting supplier became a normal fifteen-year-old girl running off to join her friends.

Halfway across the parking lot Wendy turned her head and shouted back, "Thanks by the way! That order is totally paying for my extra sized popcorn!"

Not even slowing she leapt into the backseat of the van and the teen behind the wheel drove off with the door still open, other teens pulling it shut and allowing Wendy to fasten her seatbelt on the way.

Sam and Dean just looked at each other. Bobby owed them big time.

* * *

 **Again, for once I can end a oneshot saying that there is more! I have a couple additional scenes (2.5k ish words worth) of serious extras that'll be posted as their own additional chapter next weekend. Also feel free to write to me about ideas or headcanons you have and wanted to write your own work. I love seeing activity build up in this crossover!**


	2. Epilogues

**Another reminder that this update is a couple of epilogues that both worked as codas to the main fic. Because of the one-shot's length and the tons of extra headcanons sprinkled in here I had not originally intended I decided to post them as a separate chapter. That said, I'm really happy to have this fic done and hope you all enjoy! Special shout-out to Panther4Life for the review!**

 **I will also say that I picked out the titled last minute and am still not really happy with it. If anyone can think up a good title for this fic that better fits the tone (ideally without giving away the minor spoiler that Wendy's the one running the Shack) and wants to drop in a review or pm I'd be really grateful! I promise if I change the name to a suggestion I'll give you a shout-out and may even write you a gift fic if you have a nice request!**

* * *

Pulling into Bobby's long driveway in Sioux Falls, Dean reached over to pull a burner phone out of the glove box so he could call Bobby and tell him that they were there. It was just around dawn the next day, as the brothers had driven all night, and at this time of day they couldn't guarantee that Bobby would make out either the black Impala or her headlights in the pre-dawn mix of day and night.

The man didn't actually answer the phone, as Dean expected, but instead he made his way out of the house with an early morning coffee and was waiting on the front porch. Once Dean pulled up in front of the garage he came over asking how they were and if they managed to pick up the package on their way.

"Yeah, we got it." Sam mumbled, still rubbing sleep out of his eyes and stretching out as he reached to grab the box from the back seat.

"Yeah," Dean echoed, some of the frustration that had continued to build over the night hours driving in silence. Sam could sleep through the car's music, but not well enough for Dean to turn it on unless they were fighting. "But seriously Bobby, what the hell?!"

The gruff man lifted the box from Sam's tired arms to the younger man's protest and started making his way inside. "Wendy didn't give you boys any trouble now did she?"

"No." Dean closed the Impala's doors and followed after. "I mean yes, but –"

"Good." Bobby cut him off with a smirk and Dean fought back the groan he would've given Uncle Bobby as a kid. "I was hoping she'd dish it out and you idjits could use it given how stupid you've been acting recently."

"That isn't the issue Bobby." Sam cut in, taking Dean's side in an argument with Bobby for maybe the first time Dean could remember. "She's fifteen! She should be out there selling Pixie Stix, not…" Sam trailed off as Bobby set the box on the kitchen table with a thud.

"Not selling what? Pixie sticks?" Bobby asked condescendingly, cutting open the top of the box with a knife to reveal a line of glass jars containing what looked like faintly glowing glitter. Dean had never seen it before, but it could certainly pass for fairy dust.

Bobby started unpacking the jars and putting them away in various cupboards, hidden out of sight behind bottles of beer and liquors. "Trust me, I'm not inclined to send a bunch of hunters to a kid's door and hook her up with suppliers any more than the next guy, but I have to admit that girl has a way of getting her hands on stuff I haven't even seen Bela Talbot able to procure. Magic crystals, unicorn tears, gnome beard, you name it and she can get you a fresh supply within a week. Super secretive about her sources too."

"You sure she's human?" Dean couldn't help but cut in. Bobby just gave him a withering glare at the suggestion he hadn't thought of that. The man shrugged. "Not that we apparently mind these days." That barb was aimed at Sam after he started hanging out with that blonde bitch Ruby, but Sam just glared back.

"Anyway, I was chasing rumors of a hunt in the woods up there when I saw our favorite high-end bounty hunter checking the kid's fledgling supernatural goods business out." Bobby continued. "Figured I've rather give the teen advice she wanted to hear than try to warn her out of it, have her ignore me, and let Bela take her under her wing. The girl's got the chops, and trust me when I say you don't want to see her on the other side of a fight."

Dean turned to look at Bobby. "So you're just going to let her dive headfirst into this mess?"

Bobby turned to Dean in shock and crossed his arms with a huff. "I'm not an idiot, dammit! I didn't tell her about all the demons running around or invite her to help stop it! Just gave her enough warnings to keep her from running to a crossroad or get killed in the middle of the night, which right now is a step up from either of you two!" Both Winchesters winced and Bobby sighed at his words.

"Balls." The old hunter took off his hat and ran his hand through his thinning hair. "Sorry about that. It's just a worry that's been on my mind ever since I asked you to meet her."

"Besides," the old man continued, "that girl said she wants to help but has no desire to hunt unless something comes her way. That kind of thinking makes me believe she might already be the smartest out of all of us."

* * *

Stanley, now known as Stanford, Pines took a deep breath as he waited on the other side of the gift shop door for the final customers to leave. Despite what his miserly personality might suggest, the old man really rather have the Shack empty immediately after closing versus the extra lingering customer, if only so he can have a few more precious minutes downstairs working on the portal before he needs to go to bed and start the charade over the next day.

But this old man's learned a lot over the years, and he knows better than to stir up trouble by exiting into the gift shop now, even if he does own the place (or at least looks after it until the real owner returns, but no one else knows that). If it was just a forgetful tourist or a frustrating family Stan Pines would have no trouble chewing them out or milking the mistake for all the money it was worth, but Wendy and Soos needed to learn how to run their own business.

Oh yeah, he was aware of what those two idiot employees of his thought they could sneak around under his nose. He wasn't a former con man for nothing.

They weren't that good at hiding it either. Despite Soos practically loving the Mystery Shack like his home the older employee never cluttered it with boxes of personal stuff other than the occasional stuffed animal or other childish memento. When the stack in Soos's old break room changed from extra merchandise storage to stop he nervously asked his boss not to touch Stan knew something was up. Then there was Wendy occasionally hanging around or even looking somewhat attentive at work and Stan knew his two favorite employees were either replaced by semi-competent aliens or were running something on the side.

And as much as the gruff old man liked to write it off by the lack of employable population in this backwaters town, the lonely part of him was able to finally admit in the months since the kids left that Dipper and Mabel's attachment to Wendy and Soos, and maybe even if own feelings, kept him from wanting to start a confrontation with his staff. While he may not be able to find anyone quite as loyal as Soos, the off-season certainly didn't warrant him hiring a second staff person just on register, so it wasn't like Wendy's lack of attention was hurting business when half of her current employment was out of sentiment.

And Stan knew their side job wasn't hurting business. One doesn't found fifty companies and get banned from six countries and thirty-seven states without learning how to keep track of numbers and sniff out signs that the going might not be so good. If anything, the new class of customer coming in to buy $100 trinkets (pure silver ready to be melted into bullets) and prank fake (dead man's) blood were adding a bit to the profits, even if the cost of materials made the margins slimmer on real-deal items hidden on the shelves priced at the same unreasonable amounts as manufacturing line memorabilia.

Besides, the pair was actually being responsible about the endeavor, even if they were absolutely terrible at hiding it from him. They met with their customers during hours but one of them always checked the room for prying eyes or undercover feds and handled the regular clients while they were at it. Supplies were in the break room or mixed into things on the shelves and some items they even 'convinced' Stan Pines to agree to order, just without telling him the true purpose or quality. The pair was shocked he agreed to the prices, but Stan couldn't just give away that he knew what they were doing because Soos didn't have the backbone to approach him alone and Wendy would've never cared about inventory before.

He was also glad to get a 10% cut, even if Wendy's till skimming habit suddenly reversing was the most obvious giveaway the old man could think of. He almost thought the teen was an idiot for not realizing he knew about her stealing and unauthorized break time until he realized she had a point in assuming she'd be fired if he knew. Honestly, Stan Pines wasn't sure he could scold the teen for robbing him without hugging her and offering advice halfway through, so the man just brushed it off and didn't bother.

Still, he tried to convince himself, if they got themselves into any trouble or stopped paying him his fair share he'd intervene. He already had a running tally of all of the sales they funneled through and his expected cut, and wondered if the teen would be too stressed out by the confrontation to see what he was doing if he tried to accuse her of stealing that exact running total from his register and snack machine.

Bah, he wasn't even sure if she knew the number. For all of Wendy and Soos's great qualities, neither of them were that bright.

Then again, he only knew any of this math or business stuff from Sixer and Pa's tutoring back in the day and way too many hard years of experience. He was glad both of these kids could get their black market start where he could keep an eye on them, even if he had to occasionally turn that eye away to wipe off a proud tear.

That wasn't because of them, that was from The Duchess Approves he has playing in the background to pretend he couldn't hear Wendy standing up to a couple of rowdy hunters. That was only on because the channel aired old horror movies earlier in the day and he lost the remote.

And who knows, maybe once this is all finally finished and he breaks the truth to them they'd be willing to help him restart both businesses after Stanford gets back and undoubtedly kicks him out of the house he's squatted in for thirty years. Hell, maybe they'd even be impressed by Stanford's actual knowledge in the supernatural and could show him all they've discovered on their supply runs.

It was weird and nice, being able to think about the future once the portal's done. Part of him wanted to finish it while Dipper and Mabel were here just to let them finally meet their _real_ Great Uncle Stan, not just the knock-off Grunkle he insisted they call him first out of his insistence as penance and finally out of acceptance of their love. But no, Grunkle Stan Pines had no regrets about the time he spent that summer with those kids, even if he could've shut them out after Dipper found the last journals to get his brother back sooner. For the first time there was a life outside of getting Sixer back and _after_ getting Sixer back and Stanley couldn't wait to show everything to them.

To _all_ of them. His whole family. One that accepted him and needed him beyond the one favor from Sixer amidst thirty-seven years of silence.

Once Stan could hear the tell-tale signs of the 60s Impala and Soos's mom's car pulling out front, the old man finally entered the empty gift shop and started walking over to the vending machine.

But today he found that he couldn't stop but pause and smirk at the plastic "Magic Lamp Bubble Blowers!" sitting innocently on the shelf. Maybe one day he'd have the heart to tell Wendy how that stuff secretly worked like catnip on Djinn.

Sixer's journal taught him that one.

Shaking his head at the thought that only reminded him that there was still plenty of work to be done on assembling the portal, and with the night still young and no young twins here as worthy distractions there was no time to waste.

The winter snow was already melting away into spring, and the lack of footprints in the white stuff should allow him to continue siphoning off radioactive waste at a speed that won't get him traced by the feds. In just a few short months summer would be here, and he wanted everything to be ready.

He'd already asked the twin's parents (strange, how just one summer of them being here and his world orbited around them enough for Stan to consider his own nephew almost exclusively as Dipper and Mabel's dad) to let him take care of the little rascals for another summer. He hadn't heard back yet, but that was largely because his pride had mandated that he wait until winter and make the letter seem like he was doing them another favor despite the weeks spending reading and rewriting every word hoping they'd say yes.

Still, he'd hope they'd come, and that he could plan the portal's activation for a day they were here as a big surprise. And maybe if they couldn't make it he'd find a way to convince Ford to put up with him at least long enough to road trip down to meet them. His brother may be a reclusive shut-in who's ignored his family his entire adult life, but these two kids were worth it.

As he made his way out of the elevator and into his workshop, Stan forced himself to file all these daydreams away under the brand new hallway in his mind labeled Life After. Knowing him, it wouldn't be the happily ever after type, but considering he'd never had a future to dream about since high school it was a bright and happy enough place for him.

He stopped at the desk and looked at the framed picture he had of the kids before reaching into his pocket and pulling out a snapshot he grabbed from the security camera footage earlier that day. Soos had a look of peaceful concentration on his face as he worked on closing the Shack but was also smiling up at Wendy in the center of the frame. The girl stood strong with a joke on her fingers and mischief in her eyes as she fearlessly teased the hunters cropped out of the photo.

Smiling at the image Stan Pines set it down and leaned over the finally completed blueprints from three Journals (two real and one photocopy) as he got to work. One part of him was convinced that all of this sentimentality was going to kill him or get him to lose perfectly good business.

The other was overwhelmed at the fact that his masquerade to continue his brother's life and eventually reunite the family somehow managed to give him such a wonderfully loving family of his own.

Then a thought popped into his mind and Stan threw his head back with more laughter than he'd ever let loose in his life.

He couldn't tell if former Marine Filbrick Pines would roll in his grave or be proud at the way his two sons- the one never good enough to not get himself killed and the one smart enough to deserve better- accidentally came together to start another pawn shop hunter's front and carry on the family business.


End file.
